Mirrorworld (44 page)

“Let me get that for you,” Marcus said groggily, swinging his weapon around to crash blades with the sword. On impact, the sword promptly dropped to the ground and lay still like the inanimate object it was, the possessive spell crumbling to the scythe’s powers. The Assassin gave Marcus a nod, picked up the sword and hefted it a few times as he refocused on Keithus.

The wizard was distracted by Kendra, who had closed in on him and was dodging around his blasts whilst trying to grab his staff away from him. Both combatants were moving so fast as to be almost a blur. The Assassin raised his eyebrow at Marcus.

“He uses his air blasts to throw us away when we get too close,” Marcus said.

“They don’t work on me. Distract him for long enough that I can close in, and-“

He was interrupted by the twin loud cracks of Keithus smashing his staff into Kendra’s side, and at least one of her ribs breaking at the impact. Her cry as she stumbled backwards spurred Marcus into action, running towards her as Keithus levelled his staff, business-end first, and blasted her away with a rather unnecessary amount of force. The backdraft from the hit almost knocked Marcus off his feet as Kendra flew past him, crashed against the far wall and fell to the ground heavily.

“Ouch,” the Assassin said, with feeling, as Marcus felt his heart do a somersault.

“I’m bored of this now,” Keithus said irritably, turning back to Marcus and the Assassin. “Little gnats buzzing around me, better to swat them all at once.” With what would have been in any other circumstance a pleasant smile, he aimed his staff upwards and fired a blast of energy at the ceiling. The force of the impact shook the room, blowing out the windows and a fair chunk of whatever was above them. “Look out!” the Assassin yelled, diving aside as several tons of orphaned masonry fell towards them. With a curse, Marcus turned and ran, dislodged rocks crashing down around him. He stumbled as stray detritus sprayed against his knees, and fell flat to the ground as one rock rebounded and hit him in the back, knocking him clear of the impact area with a cry.

He lay there groaning and coughing as the dust settled around him, one hand still tightly gripping the scythe. Similar groans from off to his side told him that Kendra was still conscious, although she might wish that it were otherwise. Muscles protesting loudly, he pulled himself to his feet once more, and slumped against a large chunk of what might once have been ramparts, peering through the dust to try and see where the others were.

A shifting shadow coalesced into Keithus, who in the newly dirtied atmosphere bore more than a passing resemblance to Marcus’s original demonic vision of him. He held his staff in one hand and the Assassin’s long sword in the other, and was advancing on where the man lay pinned down amongst a large pile of castle. The Assassin struggled to free himself, but his legs appeared caught, and he ceased his exertion as Keithus moved up and stood before him.

“I’m surprised no-one ever thought of that before,” the wizard said airily. “Imagine how many of my kind have died to you, at the bequest of the highest bidder, just because they forgot, in their arrogance, that there are many other ways to kill a man than with magic. Looks like you forgot too, Mr. Assassin. Now, I don’t claim to care much for my fellow wizards, but that isn’t going to make this any less sweet. Oh look, now I’m gloating. Better wrap it up before some big old hero comes to save you in your moment of peril.” And without any further warning or flinch, he plunged the Assassin’s own sword into his chest.

Marcus groaned with the realisation that things had somehow turned very, very bad, but he was too far away and in too broken of a state to do anything about it, and besides, it was too late. The Assassin stared down at his wound impassively, then up to Keithus with narrowed eyes.

“You must be feeling pretty silly around about now,” the wizard said earnestly.

The Assassin spat blood, hitting the wizard square in the hat, and died.

“Tch,” Keithus said, taking his hat off to survey the damage. “Always with the last gestures. That’s not going to come out in the wash. Oh well,” he added, thoughts veering away from him as he seemingly remembered that he still had living company, “time to do something nasty to you two, I guess. Then I’ll be on my way.” He wandered over to the large hole in the wall and peered out of it. “There’s my grand army, moving superfast. They’re good lads, my faceless collection of horrible creatures,” he said, turning back to face Marcus and beaming. “They’ll do me proud, I’m sure.”

“With what?” Marcus asked weakly.

“Smashing up Portruss, of course. Haven’t you been listening? I mean, I’m only after the Viaggiatori, but hell, if you can destroy the whole city, why not? It’s not like it means anything to me. Practically a figment of my imagination. Yeah, that’s what I said.”

To Marcus it suddenly seemed the Keithus was addressing someone else, an invisible party, but he shook the thought off. He probably was – or thought that he was, at least. His madness had not exactly been well-concealed thus far.

“I’m not mad, you know,” Keithus said suddenly, snapping his head around to stare at Marcus, who jumped. “I did think I was for a while.. but no. Despite everything, I kept my head about me. Or within me. See, Marcus, what you don’t understand yet is that we’ve been living in a dream world. You and me both. The actual fact is that everyone else is mad-”

“No,” said another voice, quietly, and Marcus turned to see that Kendra had pulled herself to her feet, and was staring defiantly at Keithus. She was supporting herself against the wall that she had been so vehemently introduced to, and holding her injured side, but nonetheless she was standing, and though her eyes were full of tears she looked angrier than Marcus had ever seen her.

“No?” Keithus asked brightly.

“No,” she said again. “
You
are the
mad one. A total sugarloop crazy person. Not even in a good way. You’re mad and you’re a murderer and we’re going to kick your ass sideways.”

“Pah,” Keithus said, good humour suddenly gone. “If you’re going to say things like that,” he began in a lecturing tone, then spun his staff quickly and sent a massive fireball her way. She slipped back down into a crouch with a further cry of pain, desperately attempting to duck, but the fireball never made it to her. Marcus, moving faster than he had ever thought he was capable of, stepped into the path of the spell and whacked it aside with a quick spin of his scythe. It bounced upwards, crashing into the ceiling and dislodging more debris and the last chandelier, shards of which fell around him as he stood between Kendra and Keithus, practically emanating defiant anger.

“Do
not
threaten her,” he told Keithus levelly, and the wizard actually took a step back. “Oh my,” he said, raising an eyebrow that the Assassin would have approved of, had he not been dead, “your turn to be the hero, Marcus? You who doesn’t even know what he’s fighting for?”

“I do actually,” Marcus said brightly, starting towards Keithus. “I’m fighting because I don’t want to die, and because I don’t want other people to die, and I’m fighting you because it pretty much seems like you’re the one going out of his way to get in the way of that philosophy.”

“People die all the time, idiot,” Keithus snapped, raising his staff.

“Not my people,” Marcus declared. “Not any more of them, not if I can help it. Life is better.”

“Oh man,” Keithus said, face cracking into a crazy grin. “You really have no idea how hilarious what you’re saying is. Well, if you want to try your luck, then-“ and without so much as changing his expression, he spun his staff and fired. Marcus had been ready for it, though, and swung the scythe. Instead of reflecting the hit with the flat of the blade, he sliced through the spell as it closed around him, and felt it fall apart. Enraged at his attack’s failure, Keithus began casting more and more spells, but Marcus span for all he was worth, sending them all either flying away or dissipating into oblivion.

“Stupid magical weapons,” Keithus complained, and then didn’t have any time for words as Marcus was within scything range, and he had to convert his use of his staff into a melee weapon to deflect the blows. Marcus kept them coming, as the man surely had to weaken eventually. The rage that had been driving him was beginning to ebb away and be replaced with the sooty cobwebs of exhaustion, but the wizard did seem to be slowing down as well; all he had to do was hold on, and..

Keithus suddenly roared with triumph, and fired another hefty blast of air off at close range. Marcus casually deflected it, wondering why the wizard would suddenly appear so confident, then realised that Keithus hadn’t been watching just his scythe, but specifically the blade, and what he’d seen reflected in it. As this conclusion dropped into his mind like a bomb, it acquired evidence as the deflected spell hit Kendra, throwing her against the wall again with another cry that was as jarring as a blow to the back of the head. Marcus couldn’t help it; he spun away from Keithus to see what state she was in, and was promptly cracked across the back of the head by the wizard’s staff.

Perhaps not quite as jarring,
he thought dreamily, as his body threw up all manner of bills that his mind couldn’t cash, and almost shut down from the effort of making excuses. He fell forward, vision full of pretty colours, and hit the ground hard for at least the fourth or fifth time that day. His scythe fell away to the side, and he felt the last of the adrenaline that had been keeping him going wave a sad salute and depart at the same time. He was left only with incredible pain.

“Whew,” Keithus said, from somewhere in the pink direction of Marcus’s vision. “I was almost starting to think I wasn’t going to get the shot, as well. You might even have had me there, Marcus. Excellent brawl, quite excellent. Sorry about the head but hey, at least you’re not dead. That’s what you wanted, right?” Marcus couldn’t make out the shape of the wizard’s vicious grin, but he knew it was there. “Pretty good takedown, I thought. Four attackers reduced to none in record time.”

Marcus felt the man pat down his pockets, and tug out his battered cigarette pack. Keithus made himself at home on a nearby rock, lighting a cigarette with a click of his fingers before throwing the packet back to Marcus. “In some ways, this is really quite unfair,” the wizard said conversationally. “In fact, if it weren’t for the irony making me giggle, I’d be
furious
. The Viaggiatori drag
you
back over to your own world, but what about me? I bet you didn’t even ask for it. I did! Admittedly I got a little angry then, too, but, well, I think I had a damn good reason. Sadly, I never got the chance to tell them what it was. Maybe I could have handled that better.” Keithus’s wan smile dissolved into a scowl. “Well, too late now, we’re long past the point of talking. Some things are unforgivable, and I will have my vengeance. Then I will be returned to the people who need me. As for you,” he said to Marcus, aiming down the length of his cigarette, “
you
should go and look at my crystal ball, like I said. It was the last thing I looked at before I came to meet you guys, so it’s still there. Just down that way, in my quarters. You deserve to know the tragic truth, if only to realise how hilariously ironic this entire situation is. One of us, supporting the Viaggiatori? Heh. Nice smokes, by the way.”

Keithus sat and enjoyed it for a moment. Marcus rolled over feebly, so that he could just about make out Kendra through his slowly restoring vision. She appeared to be moving. That was nice.

“I guess I should make a move,” Keithus said suddenly. “I’ve savoured this victory enough. It has been fun, you know. But now’s the part where I use the Viaggiatori’s own methods, a trick they don’t even know they can do, against them, and I’m looking forward to the reactions I get from them. I know, I know, I keep banging on about how I’m not exactly their biggest fan, and then I go using their trickery, the stuff that got us here in the first place.. but, well, I have a dream, and I’ll take any means I can get of making it come true.” He rose and strolled over to the window. “Look at my army move! Better get shifting, or there won’t be any left for me.” He walked over to the full-length mirror that was propped next to the big red lever, which had miraculously survived recent events unscathed, and poked it. His reflection was vaguely obscured as the glass began to shimmer.

“Alright,” Keithus said, turning back to give Marcus a mock salute. “Time for me to go
home
. Maybe I’ll see you on the other side, eh?” And with a final, Cheshire cat grin, he extinguished his cigarette, stepped through the mirror, and was gone.

Marcus blacked out. Again.

Marcus felt himself being dragged rudely into the world of the conscious, and tried to resist. It was to no avail, as someone was crouched over him, shaking him and calling his name. Painfully, and against his better judgement, he opened his eyes, and saw Kendra’s concerned face looming in his vision.

“Phew,” she said, leaning back at this sign of life. “Thought you were gone there.”

Marcus pulled himself up into a sitting position, all sorts of new flares of pain and pretty colours flashing through him in protest. He groped around himself semi-blindly, only to have Kendra hand the scythe to him, before she fell back into a kneeling position, wincing and clutching her side.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked quietly, fearing the effect louder noise might have on his head.

“Been better,” she said wanly. “Lost a rib or two, plenty of bruises where I hit the wall.”

“Well that’s good,” Marcus said, and fell silent.

“Shouldn’t you be asking if there’s anything you can do for me?” Kendra asked after a moment.

“Probably,” Marcus said, staring over towards the pile of rubble from which the Assassin’s body still protruded like a tenacious, blood-soaked weed, the final sheath of his own blade. “Why is it so quiet?”

Kendra bit her lip. “Can you stand? I’ll show you.”

“I can stand,” Marcus said absently. “Can
you
?”

“I’ve been injured worse in my time, Marcus. Come on.” She grabbed his arm, pulled him upright with only a small tightening of her eyes to suggest pain, and dragged him over to the window.